Internecine
by Cymoril Avalon
Summary: Summary examinations of leftover Umbrella facilities unearths a conspiracy darker than anyone could have expected. It is up to Claire and an unlikely ally to stop the abomination before it destroys mankind. WeskerXClaire.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or any of the characters used in this fic. I do, however, take artistic license for the facility and everything contained therein. As if that means much. :D

* * *

The facility was, naturally, underground, sprawling over what probably approximated the size of a decently populated city and containing far too many hallways. It was easy to lose track of time in the endless tainted sterility, identical room after identical room yielding no useful information. It was often a wearisome task, occasionally spanning over a week, and yet Claire always volunteered.

Rationally, she knew it was because Leon and Chris had better things to spend their time on than combing old Umbrella labs for tiny hints that probably didn't exist. Rationally, she knew they allowed it because the remaining danger was minimal. The labs had been picked clean by its own rogue agents, the traps triggered and puzzles solved. They were mostly dead end missions, but Claire insisted on making herself useful – tedious though it was, it was still necessary – and so they sent her off with a pat on the head and the usual warnings.

Rationally, Claire knew there was more to this than just her desire to help out. However, thus far nothing had occurred, so she could pretend that explanation lurking in her subconscious didn't exist at all. No, Claire was playing the good Samaritan, taking on a task that needed to be done and which her brother was too busy to do. She'd even managed to procure a few interesting items, though nothing groundbreaking – a remaining vial of some form of liquid that she'd been surprised to find just laying around; a few reports related to the infections that continued to break out intermittently in third world countries; once she'd even discovered a floppy disk ripe with information, though most was encoded – but the majority of the labs contained nothing useful, unless one found bits and pieces of nightmare inducing documents important.

But she kept breaking in, and she kept searching each and every room from top to bottom. Her brother wrote it off to the family stubbornness, and Leon appreciated every ounce of help they received, but Claire…

She knew better.

They could have sent Jill. In fact, having been a police officer at one point, she was probably more suited to the task. The only training Claire had consisted of impromptu target practice in the Arctic and the few lessons Barry had been able to spare whenever he'd visited the group. But Jill, too, had other tasks to occupy her time, and this was a project Claire wanted all to herself.

Her heels clicked loudly on the tiled floor, the odd dark stain marring the searing whiteness here and there, with the walls faring no better. Claire imagined that the artwork was, at one point, exquisite – something she'd noted in every laboratory thus far – but the remaining pieces were destroyed, torn and stained and some partially missing. She had to give credit where it was due; whoever had been in charge of decorating always did a rather decent job.

Not that Claire had much of an eye for such things, but they always looked better than the apartment she shared with Chris. The boy was physically incapable of hanging up a painting without it being crooked.

Aside from the sounds of her movement, the lab was silent, as they usually were. There wasn't even the whirring of fans; the power was almost out in this one, and as a result, the heat was nearly stifling. Claire counted herself lucky that the emergency lights were still lit, else she'd be relying on the flashlight she'd almost left at home. She never enjoyed that.

Sighing through her nose, she pushed open another door, entering a room only slightly differing from all the others she'd already explored in that there was a broken down miniature refrigerator in one corner and a floor-length mirror hanging from the wall to her left. The initial catch of her reflection, distorted by grime, startled her, and she silently shook her head and cursed herself.

She was going to die young of a heart attack, she just knew it.

Not bothering to close the door behind her – she had a habit of leaving them open after her perusals, so as not to explore the same room twice – she headed immediately over to the toppled bookcase, kneeling down and sorting through the mess. The odds of something important having been overlooked were slim, but she kept her infrequent victories in mind as she shuffled through everything, trying to ignore the monotony of it all.

One of the memos, while not useful, was at least interesting. Apparently one of the scientists had been pregnant, having conceived at some point while sequestered underground with the rest of them, and the author guessed that the father was another of the scientists. Then, as it progressed, it grew darker. The woman's moods had blackened, her temper flaring at every turn, and eventually, she'd vanished altogether.

A few months later, everyone heard her screaming, and then the sound of a baby crying. Despite trolling the facility from top to bottom, no one could uncover her hiding place, and rumors began to spread. The nature of the experimentations being done seemed to be common knowledge, and thus was never explained in any detail in the memo, which left Claire feeling frustrated.

Somehow, the writer connected the experimentations with the pregnant woman and her child, but never delved into any reasoning. In fact, he – or she – downright skirted them, as if they were too distasteful to linger upon. It broke off abruptly and Claire realized there were pages missing.

That happened far too often for her tastes. So much left unfinished, so much information slipping through her fingers. She felt like she failed more often than not, and it often left her feeling down at the end of the day. Leon, of course, tried to assure her that they appreciated her efforts and that the more labs they could cross off their list, the better. But Claire left the facilities with nightmares more often than anything else. Nothing she'd experienced in the Arctic could have prepared her for the extent of Umbrella's corruption, the depths of depravity it had been willing to plunge into without hesitation or remorse.

Placing the memo aside – Chris might be interested in reading it, as ominous as it was – she began pawing through the rest of the paperwork, finding some half-ruined medical records and other, more dry memos discussing the day-to-day maintenance of the facility.

It was while she was engrossed in learning about the ventilation system that her instincts forced her to freeze, goosebumps invading her skin and the hair on the back of her neck rising. Lips parted just slightly, breath even, she slowly moved to grasp the magnum on her hip.

"Don't bother," came a dry voice. "It won't do you any good."

Nonetheless, Claire drew her weapon and pivoted smoothly, kneeling on just one leg now as she leveled the barrel at a too-familiar form.

Just the specter she'd been expecting to see without actually admitting to herself that she'd been looking for him all along. Where else would he lurk but the broken shadows of his old allegiance? After all, it was no surprise that a creature such as he had emerged from these ruins.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, as if she hadn't been anticipating this very meeting.

"I could ask the same of you." He stood completely at ease, those dark sunglasses shielding his eyes, face impassive. It was always impossible to read him, and she knew that if he decided to get violent, she would have no warning.

But somehow, she wasn't all that worried.

"I thought you were dead."

His lips twitched just slightly. "Figured that self-destruct in Prague caught me? Don't be so childish."

"I never saw you exit the facility."

"You weren't meant to."

Their conversation, as expected, ground to a halt. There was nothing she could accuse him of that he didn't already have an answer prepared for. However, a part of her grew moderately excited; if Wesker was here, then there was something important lingering that he didn't want anyone else to acquire. That had been the situation in Prague, and she had a feeling it was the same here.

If only she'd managed to arrive a few days earlier, she might have found whatever it was he was seeking and spirited it away. Instead, she'd be lucky to get out with her life.

Crossing his arms as if bored, he continued in his deadpan voice, "Umbrella truly is fond of their self-destruct systems, aren't they? You'd think they'd grow bored of it eventually."

"It does what it's meant to do."

"How aptly put."

Figuring that there was no point in letting her arm grow tired aiming at gun at a creature who could outrun bullets, Claire lowered her weapon and rose to her feet, replacing it in the holster at her hip. "What are you doing here?" she asked again. No one ever accused Claire of not trying.

"The same you are, I presume." He shifted his stance when she moved, and then returned to his unnatural stillness, watching her. "I also presume that had you found anything, you wouldn't still be here, and this place wouldn't still be standing."

So Prague troubled him as well. "Still stings?" After all, once she'd discovered what he'd been seeking, she'd managed to destroy it before he got his grubby paws all over it. Chris hadn't been pleased, of course, but in Claire's mind, information that wasn't in Wesker's hand was a victory, even if it wasn't in theirs either. She's much rather it be lost than be put to whatever nefarious uses Wesker had planned.

"Hardly."

Nothing ever seemed to ruffle him.

A sound off to the side stole his attention, but Claire's gaze never wavered. Rationally, she should have looked as well, considering Wesker tended to work alone and she'd found no signs of life in the facility. However, instead, for just that moment, she was free to study him, trying to figure out what haunted her dreams.

It didn't take long for him to realize he was under scrutiny, and the look he gave her was almost amused. "See something you like, Miss Redfield?"

Color rushed to her cheeks, though more out of anger than embarrassment. "What was that noise?"

"Are you worried?"

Yes. "No."

"Then relax, dear heart. I'm sure you know just as well as I do what that noise was."

The memo flashed through her mind, the only item of interest she'd discovered yet, but she pushed that away. The notion was absurd, especially considering there was still a third of the facility left to explore. She didn't know how much Wesker had already ransacked, but he seemed to presume he'd already traced her steps.

Or he was just playing with her.

"What was it?"

His attention was distracted again, and now Claire felt irritated. It was clear he didn't view her as a threat, and while she was well aware that she was helpless as a kitten around him, she didn't appreciate being treated like one.

"Wesker?" She was pushing her luck, and she knew it. Likely, he was offering her ample opportunities to pick up and leave, but the thought of her brother's reaction was enough to keep her feet planted. When he first discovered that the two of them had spoken, he'd nearly torn her head off with his verbal beatings, and it had taken Leon, Barry, and Jill in a combined effort to keep him from running off and trying to find Wesker.

There was still bad blood between those two, though Claire had never gotten a straight answer out of either as to how it started. For Chris, it was enough that Wesker had betrayed and slaughtered nearly the entire STARS team. For Wesker…

The sound grew louder, a harsh scritching like nails on a chalkboard, or a twisted piece of metal dragged along the floor. It made Claire shudder and cover her ears until it passed, and she became aware that this time, Wesker was studying her.

His half-smile was apologetic. "I'm afraid I cannot risk your interference this time," he said in that self-possessed, almost condescending tone.

A question was killed on her lips as Wesker vanished from her view and pain exploded in the back of her head. Consciousness held on long enough to hear his murmured words.

"Sorry, dear heart."

* * *

Claire's awareness returned with a throbbing behind her eyes and a sour taste in the back of her mouth. Her cheek was pressed to a cool floor, and for a moment, she remained where she was, mind frantically racing to reconcile the pain with what she last remembered. A coppery scent reached her nose when she touched the back of her head, and she shuddered.

Opening her eyes, she was met with a flickering light that only worsened the churning in her belly. Groaning, she pushed herself to her knees, trying to ignore the sensation of déjà vu that spirited her back to the island prison where her life had been turned upside down.

Unfortunately, her surroundings didn't help much. The cell she was imprisoned in was small, containing a narrow bed and chipped washstand and long-dead plant lurking in the corner. The bars were covered with lichen and stained with age, and the table and chairs beyond were toppled and discarded. The walls…

Her eyes skittered away from the walls, not wanting to process that still-wet liquid splattered on them, or deliberate as to what types of mold were growing within the numerous cracks and crevices. Not to mention the decidedly distasteful shackles that still held the remnants of a human body, or at least, what she presumed was a human body. Just one glance was enough to show that it was decayed beyond her skills to determine what it truly belonged to. However, she simply didn't want to consider it belonging to anything else.

Her hands tingled as they reached desperately to her hip, finding that her magnum was gone, along with the rest of her weaponry and supplies. All that was left to her was a pack of matches and a small, unfamiliar coin she couldn't remember bringing with her. Even her hair tie was missing.

Grasping the bars and trying to ignore the sickly way they tried to cling to her fingers, she used the leverage to pull herself the rest of the way up, standing unsteadily on her feet. Her thoughts were swirling as badly as her stomach, and for a moment, she thought she was going to lose her lunch.

Wesker. The lab. That awful, invasive sound that he insisted didn't concern her. And now this. Where was she?

She doubted he'd have moved her far. There was too much risk involved with that. But did that mean the facility had holding cells that hadn't been on the map she'd studied? It was possible – she'd heard of and seen more ludicrous things in other labs across the world – and the only explanation she was willing to cling to. After all, if he'd taken her somewhere else entirely, it meant she was at his mercy. If she was still in the facility, Leon and her brother knew she was there, and eventually, they would seek her out. Right?

Leaning heavily against the bars, she tried to yell and found her voice hoarse. Clearing her throat, she finally managed to croak out a rather pathetic, "Help!"

The answering sound left her blood cold.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Nope, I still do not own anything herein, save for the facility and...well. You'll see.

Author's Note: I have to admit, this is my first real Resident Evil fic. As such, please leave reviews, telling me what you like and dislike, and your opinions on my characterization. Be nice, of course. And thank you for reading.

* * *

Claire was huddling somewhere in the center of her tiny cell, her eyes trained on the half-open door leading beyond to…whatever lay outside. She hadn't been able to figure out where she was, with only portions of the facility's map burned into her head and the holding cell not being a part of it. But the sound emanated from somewhere beyond that door, that awful screaming that assaulted her senses and made her want to cover her ears, and it was growing closer.

It didn't help that her head continued to throb, or her stomach insisted on being sensitive enough that even glancing over at the corpse dangling in those chains made her feel ill, or that she was beginning to worry that Wesker had indeed moved her to another location and no one would be coming to help her. However, the screaming was the same she'd heard before he'd decided it was naptime, which was oddly comforting. It at least meant she was in a semi-familiar location, and it meant that her brother knew where she was.

She had no way of knowing how long she'd been unconscious for. It could have been minutes – which she doubted – or hours – which was more likely – or perhaps even a day or so. However long it was, it was more time that elapsed wherein she didn't return home, and she knew Chris. He would begin to worry even before she was scheduled to finish with her job and come back, and he would start pacing and whining at whoever was close enough to listen.

Eventually, he would come after her, and if he didn't, one of the others might. It was really absurd, these situations the Redfield siblings kept getting into; Claire always needing rescuing, and thinking that her brother was the one who needed help, leading them both to the ends of the earth and encountering creatures that didn't belong on its soil.

It had also led her to meet Leon, which she considered one of the brighter things that occurred in her life, though she'd rather cut out her own tongue than admit it out loud.

The screaming cut off, much to Claire's relief, only to be replaced by a heavy breathing that sounded as if it was right on top of her. A shadow appeared through the doorway, partially obscured and leaving Claire to wish that the door was shut entirely, rather than half-open, only hinting at whatever was waiting to gobble her up. Not once did she think that the breather would become her savior.

The creature that shuffled into the room and stared at Claire was almost beyond her comprehension. It was human, or at least, had been human at one point, but now it was twisted, its movements stunted by a disgusting lurch that brought to mind visions of tendons snapping from being over-extended. Odd ridges covered its flesh, almost like a rudimentary form of armor, and the hands were so swollen Claire couldn't figure out if it had fingers or not.

As if she could really focus on it that closely when it was peering at her with such unnaturally bright blue eyes, perhaps the most human part of it. It was thoroughly distracting, and somehow, the comparison between it and anyone she might have run across on the street made her want to skirt the creature's origins that much more. Behind those eyes lurked what appeared to be intelligence, cunning, though on a lower level than she was used to seeing. Perhaps the creature worked more on instinct than anything else, but Claire had a feeling it could do primitive problem solving.

However, she was only willing to speculate so far, especially since she didn't really have much left of her brain power to focus on picking apart the creature when the rest of it had shut down and was screaming for her to get the hell out of there.

Luckily, the cell bars separated them, and Claire could only hope that the creature wasn't strong enough to remove or bend them.

Shuddering, she moved away quickly, her back hitting the wall disturbingly close to the dangling corpse, though she barely noticed. The creature approached at a slower pace than it had entered the room, and Claire was, at least, a little relieved to notice that it lacked additional eyeballs or body parts that so many of Umbrella's creations seemed to sprout. In fact, aside from the zombies, this was the most human-appearing she'd encountered.

What if it wasn't one of Umbrella's creations? Maybe it was a product of another experimentation, or something that had somehow developed naturally.

_The insistent crying of a baby… _

It suddenly flung itself against the bars, and a scream tore from Claire's throat before she could even think to react. Scrambling to the other side of the cell, the redhead looked around desperately for something she might use to protect herself, for once glad that whomever had built the cell had left such a narrow gap between the bars.

Panic started to set in as the creature continued trying to circumvent the troublesome bars with its body, over and over and over again, making a horrible screaming sound as it did so. Watching with horror, Claire's fingers closed around a rusty wrench that had fallen behind the sink and somehow missed the scrutiny of whomever had rid the cell of anything remotely resembling a weapon. She doubted it would do much good, but it was comforting to have something to wrap her fingers around, to know that she would at least go down fighting.

It was then that she noticed the creature was wearing clothing. It was so dirty and tattered that at first glance, they appeared to simply be a part of its body. However, it was clear it was wearing what appeared to be a surprisingly raunchy shirt and short skirt.

_She disappeared, but then there were her screams, so terrible and full of pain… _

Claire's mind began referring to the creature as 'she' and she moved to quickly stamp that down; it was far easier to kill something without giving it any sort of human definition or form. Besides which, there was so little of its human origins left that…

Wait, was that a wedding band on its bloated fingers?

It did, indeed, have fingers, but they looked as if they'd been held underwater for far too long and likely were incapable of any sort of nimble work. Whole chunks of flesh had rotted off not only the fingers, but the arms as well, leaving gaping, raw wounds that glistened like the inside of somebody's mouth. If they had gangrene, anyway, and blackened muscles, and oh god there was even bone showing through in places.

The sight, and mostly the stench, made Claire want nothing more than to curl herself around a toilet and lose everything she'd ever eaten in her entire short life. One that appeared about to be rendered even shorter.

The creature looked away and ceased its clumsy assault, oddly elongated ears twitching, and the sound of footsteps reached Claire's ears. The first emotions she felt was relief; there was somebody else here, she wasn't going to remain a prisoner, and they were going to dispatch this thing and get her out. It would be Chris, of course, packing as much heat as he possibly could, and he would be sure to rib on her before letting her out, and then go so far as to muss her hair and pull her into a bear hug. Unless he was with anyone else; then he might save the hug for later. He was surprisingly allergic to public affection.

Or maybe it was Leon. He'd be armed to the teeth too, and would ensure she was in one piece before even thinking of teasing her for getting locked up and needing rescue yet again. Then maybe he would pull her into a hug, a really tight one…

Wesker stepped through the doorway, and her frantic daydreams vanished. Instead, a sick panic far more cloying than what she'd felt earlier settled in her chest like a parasite, feeding off of his smug look and confident swagger. He didn't seem the least bit perturbed to find the creature half-heartedly pawing at the bars, though he did fix it with an unamused stare, as if it were an unruly child rather than something pulled from Claire's nightmares.

To her surprise, it shuffled over to him, lurching from side to side as if it were about to topple over, and paused to peer up at him with the same intensity it had studied Claire with. From the back, Claire was able to see what remained of straggly hair, long and dark and tangled beyond repair, which only added to the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that this thing used to be human at some point in time.

Wesker tilted his head to regard the creature coolly, and then raised a single eyebrow. It made a low keening noise that had a decidedly whiny quality to it, and then it hunkered down, as if it had been chastised, before slinking out of the room.

He shifted his gaze to Claire and, despite the futility, she wished she were armed with more than a rusty wrench.

"Ah, so you're awake," he said as if he hadn't just sent the terrifying thing scurrying with a look. His constant calm infuriated her. His eyes briefly scanned the cell before settling back on her. "And you haven't found the key yet."

"What the hell was that…?" Claire broke off, blinking. "Key?"

Amusement tinged his tone. "Yes. Key."

Claire bristled; it felt as if he were speaking to a six-year-old rather than a grown woman. She should have known better than to allow him to get under her skin, especially considering she'd interacted with him enough in the past to know he was going to do so without trying, but it seemed as if she always handled him better when he wasn't standing directly in front of her, watching.

In fact, it felt as if she always handled him better when he wasn't near her, and the situations always occurring in the past. It was easy to pretend she maintained the upper hand when she had plenty of time to ruminate on what she could have and should have said or done. Now, however, she was well aware of his scrutiny, well aware that he didn't think she posed any sort of threat, and well aware that he could kill her in a blink of an eye and not shed a single tear.

If he even had any tears left.

"What key?"

"The key to your cell door."

Claire remained silent for a few minutes while comprehension slowly dawned on her. He followed her disgusted gaze over to the dangling corpse, and she was treated to one of his rare smiles.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"You could always remain there, Miss Redfield. It hardly matters to me."

"Then why are you here?" she shot back.

"I figured you'd prefer not to be torn apart by Mrs. Crofter."

"Who?"

"You just made her acquaintance. Really, Miss Redfield, where are your manners?"

"That was a person?" As if she hadn't suspected as such from the beginning. But really, how often had she actually encountered something of Umbrella's that still looked human? Zombies, yes, but nothing else, and the thing – the woman – certainly hadn't appeared to be a walking corpse.

"An accident," he mused, tilting his head. "She was never meant to become what she is, but I certainly don't hear anybody complaining."

"How do you know?"

"You read about her. At least, I presume you did; I found the file in a makeshift pile of things that seemed similar to what you would keep."

_She vanished, pregnant, and then everyone was haunted by the sound of a baby crying… _

Claire's blood ran cold.

"How would you know what I'd keep?" She was being deliberately belligerent, but she didn't care. Perhaps being behind a set of iron bars fueled her courage, despite knowing that they would hardly pose a problem to Wesker if he chose to remove them. It also helped to cover her fear, though she doubted she was fooling anybody.

"Really now, Miss Redfield. I think spending too much time around your brother has robbed you of what few brain cells you had to begin with."

Claire bit back her retort and gritted her teeth against it for good measure. She refused to give in and allow him any further amusement out of their conversation. Instead, she focused on his assertion that the key was not only in her cell, but also within reach, assuming she was willing to dig through a dead body to find it.

Because, of course, if Wesker was the one who placed the key in the first place, he'd never leave it somewhere as easy and conspicuous as in the corpse's hand. Though of course, Claire would check anyway.

After he left.

Now she felt as if she had entered into a staring contest like they were both children. He seemed perfectly content to just watch her, eyes unreadable behind his sunglasses, posture loose and comfortable. Claire, on the other hand, was tense, her grip on the useless wrench tight enough to hurt, and her stomach was still swimming unpleasantly. It didn't help that her thoughts kept returning to the corpse, already wondering how she was going to find the key when she didn't have any tools aside from the wrench, and she felt disgusted that she was even attempting to go about this with any sort of clinical detachment.

It was better for her mental well being, of course, but that had once been a person and she was preparing to defile it.

Claire's gaze slowly slid away, falling on the dangling body, and bile rose on her throat again. Perhaps if she were able to open the wrench far enough, she could dig it into the skin and clamp down, removing…

Wesker made enough noise when he moved that Claire knew he wanted her to watch. Slowly, he left the room, and then returned with a large, clear bottle of water. Deliberately placing it on a nearby rickety table, he returned to watching her, gauging her reaction.

Her parched throat began burning at the sight of the water, and her eyes narrowed when she realized he was taunting her. He might as well have danced around and sang, "Don't you want this water? Don't you want to free yourself?"

Which, looking back, would have induced side-splitting laughter, but humor was the farthest thing from her mind.

Claire unconsciously licked her lips, and Wesker smirked.

"Are you thirsty, dear heart?"

Clenching her fists, she turned away, closing her eyes and trying to center herself. She apparently stood still for too long, since it prompted another comment from Wesker.

"And here I thought you'd be eager to leave your cell."

"So that thing can eat me?"

They both paused as the creature screamed again, and Claire idly wondered what it was in response to. To her knowledge – which was clearly inadequate – there was no one else there aside from her and Wesker. She doubted he brought anyone along, and she certainly hadn't come across anyone or anything until he'd knocked her out.

Which made her wonder where that creature had been holed up in the first place, and why, if he'd done it, Wesker had let her go.

"You're a woman." An observation that made it sound as if she were more a piece of excrement than a human being. "You should be understanding. She's only hunting so she can feed her child."

Claire turned slowly, watching him. "What?"

Wesker began examining his fingernails, though what he could see when they were covered with black gloves was a mystery. "You heard me quite well, dear heart. And more to the point, you read about it."

So that nagging notion was true. Claire would have patted herself on the back if she hadn't been locked in a cell, and if Wesker hadn't been watching her with an intensity that made her aware of how messy her hair was, and how rumpled her clothing had become after being knocked out, dragged, and left to lay on a cold, dirty floor. Still, that was one question answered, and had her attention not been more on her desire for that tasty bottle of water, she might have been able to answer a few more.

As it was, she wanted out of that cell. She also wanted a drink, but she'd rather die of thirst than ask Wesker for so much as a drop.

The rational part of her mind whispered that her tune would change if she didn't get out of there in the next several hours. After all, what was the point in dying if all she had to do was sacrifice some of her pride to lengthen it? Though the water was more incentive for her to play around with a corpse than to get on her knees to beg him for anything, but even if she found the key, she'd still face a rather large problem.

Namely, getting around Wesker.

It was clear he was playing some sort of game with her – she couldn't help but wonder if he had anything better to do – and either didn't expect her to go to far as to fish a key out of a corpse so far decayed she couldn't even tell the gender, or he just wanted to watch her turn green. Either way, she wasn't pleased with her predicament, and it made it even worse knowing it was her own fault.

Especially since she'd been anticipating their next meeting, looking forward to it for reasons she refused to even acknowledge.

Letting out a breath, Claire decided to press for information. "She has a baby."

"Correct."

But if the mother had become…whatever she had become, what was the baby like? "Is it human?"

"Not quite."

Well, so much for that. Wesker was obviously enjoying making her squirm, and frustrating her as much as he could. But Claire was stubborn, and she decided she'd find a way to beat him at his own game, and rules be damned. She didn't need to know the rules in order to outsmart him.

She just needed a shotgun and superhuman powers.

Another deep, calming breath. "The child is in the facility." That much was obvious, but she wanted confirmation.

Wesker nodded.

"And it's hungry." That was more of a comment to herself than anything else, but Wesker still inclined his head in response, a ghost of a smile flitting across his face. Fitting, that he would find something like that amusing.

"Very. In fact, it's famished." Shifting his weight briefly, he continued, in a conversational tone, "There were enough creatures locked in with them to sustain them for a while, but then they ran out of meat, and the only thing standing between you and those teeth is me. I trust you will remember that, dear heart, and treat me accordingly."

Then, as if he was aware that she was paying close attention, he reached over and touched the water bottle, running a gloved finger over the side and collecting the condensation.

Claire's eyes were drawn back over to the bottle of water, staring at it hard, as if she could taste the droplets from the other side of the room. Instead of it springing into her hand, it stayed where it was, mocking her as surely as the half-smile on the blonde's face.

This wasn't going the way she'd wanted it to go, and her interest in information was waning. She had to take this one step at a time, and first, she needed her freedom.

Then she needed a drink, preferably of the alcoholic kind, but she would have to make due with whatever was at hand. If she made it out of here alive, then she would go to a bar, preferably with Leon since her brother would try to ruin her fun, and get tanked.

Taking a breath, she edged over to the body, fingers trembling as she pried its fingers from its palms to ensure it wasn't clasping the key, or any sort of useful item. The only thing of note that occurred was a few of the fingers snapping free and clattering to the ground, startling her. Then she stared at it the way she'd stared at the water, as if hoping the sheer force of her gaze would cause the key to appear in the air.

The need for defiance was overwhelming.

"Chris knows where I am," Claire shot over her shoulder as she gripped her wrench, trying to determine the best place to strike.

"Indeed."

"He's going to come and find me."

Laughter, so loud and sudden, caused the redhead to look at Wesker, surprised to see such a human reaction out of him. There was a delight in his tone that she'd never heard, and when he stopped, he was grinning from ear to ear.

"You clearly misunderstand, dear heart. That's exactly what I'm expecting, and it's why I bothered keeping you alive. Your brother and I have…unfinished business."

He threw back his head and laughed again, and did not even stop when the creature let out another of its inhuman screams.


End file.
